Graves sighs. "An analyst found one of our sites that we don't want eyes on."
"Well, it looks like he was the one who took out the trash." Logan can't help the hint of admiration in his voice.
"This analyst was a female and not even a field agent. And these were four highly trained operatives.” Graves folds her arms over her chest.
"She had help?"
"A lot of it. The whole team is dead, and she and whomever helped her disappeared without a trace. But given the footprints we found, it looks like it was only one other person."
"One guy took out the team?" Logan raises an eyebrow, reassessing the situation. This isn't some plucky analyst and a coworker or a friend or a random passerby. This is something else entirely. Logan's heartbeat picks up speed, which is a rare pleasure.
Graves nods, lips pursed and face severe.
Logan's lips curl into a smile. It’s a predator's grin of bared teeth but narrowed eyes. Most people flinch when they see it, but Graves just watches him with that same flat, cold stare.
The other source of their friction is her hypocrisy, which irritates Logan. While she may not directly get her hands dirty, she isn’t all that different from him.
"What do you need me to do?" Logan asks, already knowing the answer.
"Clean up the mess."
"Done." The words come out as equal promise and threat. The familiar taste of the hunt rises in Logan's throat. Metallic. It’s been too long since he's had a proper challenge.
"Law enforcement will be tracking them too," Graves says, turning away from Logan and walking toward the exit.
Logan looks at Graves, disgust etched into his features. "You should know better."
Graves at least has the decency to look slightly disgusted herself. "Yes. Well, I'm fixing my mistake and coming to you now."
Logan doesn't respond, instead moving to the monitoring equipment beside McCord's bed. His fingers hover over the power switch.
"He could wake up and give us a description of whoever helped her," Graves says, her eyes tracking what Logan is about to do.
"He's not waking up, and I don't need it. And we have enough loose ends to tie up," Logan says simply. Gravesdoesn't respond, just nods once and walks away, footsteps fading down the sterile hallway.
Logan flicks off the machine. The steady beeping stops, replaced by silence. Logan reaches for the breathing tube next, pulling it free in one smooth motion.
McCord's body bucks weakly on the bed, his lungs desperately searching for oxygen that won't come. It goes on longer than one would think, given the damage to his body. But then he’s still.
Logan watches every moment, savoring.
Eleven
Iwake. But not like I have for years. Not suddenly, my senses instantly alert. No, I wake up slowly. Calm.
My arm is draped over Naomi's waist, her back pressed against my chest. I turn and look at her. She smells heavenly and looks even better, her face serene.
I shift slightly in the bed and realize I'm rock hard, embarrassingly so, like some goddamn teenager who's never touched a woman before. Hell, it’s been long enough that maybe there’s no difference.
Of course,the differenceis sleeping peacefully next to me.
I slowly pull my arm away, trying to create distance between us without disturbing her. The last thing I need is for her to wake up and feel my body betraying how much I want her. The mattress creaks slightly as I shift my weight away.
Guilt washes over me. Not just because of my physical reaction, but because of how right this feels. I don't deserve that feeling. I haven't earned it. Men like me don't get to wake up next to a woman as beautiful as Naomi and feel anything but the weight of what we've done.
While I’m disciplined enough to pull my body away from hers, I’m not strong enough to tear my eyes from her face.
I can barely breathe, she’s so pretty.
